The Dancer
by Sara-Lady-Dalian
Summary: A new arrival to Hogwarts proves to be a trial to Severus Snape as he fights her demons. Will he be able to show her that she doesn't have to succomb to her worst fears? Will he be able to resist the temptation of a Siren?
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer - I own none of the characters or situations you recognize - I'm just playing here, and I'll promise to play well with others. Or at least try.  
  
Pre-Amble The Dancer  
  
Albus Dumbledore looked at the young woman who stood in his office, digesting the report that she had brought him. He summoned the teapot over to his desk and poured two cups of tea. "And you say there is no trace of Voldemort." He sighed. He had hoped that the wizarding world would be free of Voldemort's curse for a little while longer.  
  
"None." She turned from his window and took the teacup that was floating towards her. "I scoured the forest. There was plenty of evidence that he had been there, but none that he still was."  
  
"Well then, plans must be made." His Observer, he noted, was still standing rigid, having turned back to the window. "How is your family?" For a moment, he wondered if she would ignore his question, as she sometimes did.  
  
But, when she turned her head, what little he could see of her face showed a smile that reached her eyes. "Last I time I was able to go home, they were fine."  
  
Dumbledore watched her, as she watched the grounds, and wondered if she would tell him what it was that was troubling her. It was in her nature to hold on to whatever thoughts were percolating in her mind until she had shifted them though a fine sieve, only letting them see the light of day when she was ready.  
  
"I never thanked you, did I, for everything you did for me that year?" She still had not turned back towards him. Her voice was calm though it sounded a little strained.  
  
"You are most certainly welcome. I consider it a privilege to have had you here."  
  
As if she disagreed with him, she let out a short, derisive laugh, bowed and shook her head back and forth. "On those far away journeys I often wonder how everyone is faring," she said a few moments later, in a voice hushed, as if she was confessing some sacred secret.  
  
He heard her cloak swish as she leaned against the ledge. After stirring his tea, he peered up at her again. She had let her hood drop, and was sipping her tea, looking at him over the rim of her cup. "Everything goes on here as it always has. Occasionally Minerva will ask if I've heard from you." He trailed off, wondering if she would ask the question to which she actually wanted the answer.  
  
"And, how is he?"  
  
At last, Dumbledore thought. "He is as grumpy as ever." He tried to sound resigned. In truth, he was amused. "He has a name, you know." When she came to see Dumbledore, they danced around this topic; sometimes she would ask about him, but she would never say his name.  
  
"Humph." She mumbled something indistinct and set the teacup down. "I need to go."  
  
He nodded his head. This was how it always was. Sometimes she would just leave in the middle of the conversation. He never asked why, just said, "You are always welcome here."  
  
She looked at him once more, gave him a soft smile, raised her hood, and walked out his door. Usually, she felt the need to be somewhere else, warned that one of her wards had been tripped or she had a prior appointment. Sometimes, like now, she felt herself coming dangerously close to telling him more than she meant.  
  
The corridor to Dumbledore's office was usually quiet, especially at this time of night. This night, however, just as she was heading towards the marble stairway, someone else was sweeping towards her. He was dressed all in black, his robes flowing off his shoulders, covering his arms. Even his eyes were night black.  
  
She pulled herself further into her cloak, gripped her arms so he would not see her hands, and tried desperately not to look at him. She did not actually need to. He haunted her dreams and filled most of the waking moments that she allowed herself personal thoughts. His pace slowed as he came towards her. Out of the corner of her eye, she could tell he was trying to categorize her. She hurried her step. She could not be caught here, could not be pulled into his trap again. She was almost at the bottom step, about to turn the corner when she heard his voice, "Wait."  
  
Dumbledore saved her, again. "Severus."  
  
"Headmaster was."  
  
She heard nothing more than that; the stone of the corridor blissfully muffled their conversation.  
  
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"Severus."  
  
The tone of Dumbledore's voice was one that did not brook disobedience. Severus, however, turned to watch the figure flee the hall. There was something. Something familiar about how. she. yes, that seemed right. The figure did seem feminine. Something familiar about how she moved. There was a grace about the way her hips moved; the way her feet skipped over the cold stone stairway. Her eyes, though he had only gotten a glimpse before she had hidden them, seemed especially familiar.  
  
"Headmaster was that.."  
  
"My Observer, Severus." Dumbledore seemed, just then, tired. "There is much to discuss. She has brought news of Voldemort."  
  
Still looking over his shoulder down the corridor, Severus Snape followed Albus Dumbledore past the gargoyle that guarded the stairs to the Headmaster's office. 


	2. Chapter 1

The Dancer - Chapter 1  
  
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Universe belongs to JK Rowling as well as half a dozen other entities that I cannot even remember, including, but not limited to Scholastic Books and Warner Bros. Anyone you recognize belongs to her and anyone you do not belongs to me. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
Even after entering the room, he was unsure what he was doing there. The Headmaster had asked him to look in on her, but what was he supposed to do when he found her?  
  
As the. girl. moved, he could see that her eyes were closed. With the loud music, he was sure that she had not heard him slip into the room. Some sort of Muggle music, he supposed. Hard and crass, it did not sound like anything that he had ever heard on the WWN.  
  
There was something very primeval in the way her bare feet pounded in time to the "music." The way her knees bent, lowering her almost to the floor, looked positively inviting. Her hair, usually folded and woven in elaborate braids hung long and unbound, red and gold; it flowed over her shoulders, back and face like a living mass of fire and ice. Her face, so damned silent, controlled, and unreadable when she was in class, was flushed with the effort of keeping up with the music and the heartache that the singer was proclaiming. Even her clothing seemed primitive and raw.  
  
As she twisted towards him, he could see that her eyes were shut and her body possessed by the throbbing music; he could also see the signs of exhaustion on her face.  
  
What is she trying to do? Pushing back a lock of black hair, he kept staring at her.  
  
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Two men and a soon-to-be sixth year girl sat in the round office. The older man sat with fingers steepled while he watched his former and current students.  
  
"Thank you for seeing us, Headmaster." Gregory Mason looked into the face of Albus Dumbledore and knew that he had been right to come. Like most graduates of Hogwarts, he was imprinted with the idea, "If there's trouble, see the Headmaster."  
  
"It is always a pleasure to see my students again, Gregory." Dumbledore's voice was at once soft and comforting. "I understand that you have something you need to speak to me about."  
  
Gregory looked at his daughter and saw her swallow tightly. The last few weeks had been especially difficult on Angela. "Headmaster, we are having something of a. family emergency." Gregory paused, found himself fidgeting his hands, and then, in an effort to stop, wiped them on his robes. "You will remember my brother, Stephen."  
  
"Ah." The two brothers had been practically inseparable, though in different houses. He had wondered, when he got Gregory's owl, asking for a meeting, if Stephen and his family were what Gregory wanted to discuss.  
  
"You heard." Gregory's voice wavered. Had he really expected Dumbledore not to know? Gregory rose from his chair, gripped his daughter's shoulder, and started pacing the room.  
  
"The barest details, yes." It was no use in denying that all manner of information came to Dumbledore's attention, including the murders of two of his former students as well as two of their daughters. Anger bubbled inside him as he recalled hearing Severus tell him the rumors he had heard bandied about in Knockturn Alley. He had hoped, that with Voldemort banished by young Potter, that such senseless killings would stop. There was, however, no evidence that the Death Eaters did this. The murders had not only been wasteful, they had also been torturous for the young woman forced to watch. "How is Siren?"  
  
"She is the heart of our problem, Headmaster." He stopped before the fireplace and gripped the mantle so hard that hid knuckles turned white. "After it was over, she sent out a distress call, waited for the Aurors, told them what happened and hasn't said a word since."  
  
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Siren heard, of course, the murmurs and flutters that often followed her wherever she went. Students had been whispering behind her back since the start of the term, a little more than a week ago. She did not intend to answer them. She did, however, fling the two first year girls currently staring at her a quelling look that sent them scurrying down the hall. Scoffing silently to herself, she turned and looked at the library she had been about to enter. It was crowded and she did not really know if she would be able to ignore the conversations around her. Instead, she turned and just walked away.  
  
As she realized that she was headed out of the castle, she concentrated briefly and felt her cloak grow thicker. Pulling the hood up, she descended the steps and walked onto the path in front of the main entrance. Not Hagrid's hut. Though he never asked her any questions, just let her sit by his fire, with Fang on her lap, she did not feel like being with anyone tonight. She briefly considered breaking a promise she had never made, but found she did not have the energy. So, the forest remained off limits. That left the lake.  
  
The coolness of the breeze touched her face. She was not used to coolness in September. At home, it was usually.  
  
Her thoughts still could not get past her nightmares. Her insides scrunched up, her face mirrored the pain that stabbed through her chest, her knees gave way, and a silent sob tore from her mouth. Bending her forehead to the grass, she gave into the grief that gripped her and ripped her soul from her body, leaving her bare and empty again.  
  
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"She's having a hard time, poor girl. The other students are not warming to her." Professor Flitwick shook his head in resignation. "Of course she does not make it easy for them to like her since she just will not, or can not, talk to them. Poor Angela has tried everything that she can to make Siren fit in here, but it just is not working." The tiny little professor shifted on his cushion.  
  
"She puts forth an amazing effort in her classes. Certainly, her transfiguration skills are well learned. I've set her some additional readings, and what material she's turned back in is well thought out and intelligent." Professor McGonagall tsked in worry and confusion. "But, I have to agree with Filius. She is suffering from her lack of socialization." Looking over the rims of her spectacles at the other teachers in the room, she silently dared any one of them to deny her observations about Siren Mason.  
  
"Severus?" Dumbledore looked towards the dark Potions master who stood starring out the window towards the lake.  
  
Waving his had negligently, he said, "Yes, she can follow a recipe accurately enough, and without destroying her cauldron or poisoning herself." Severus Snape had not really been following the conversation. He had found in the two years he had been teaching here that the weekly staff meetings were a waste of his time.  
  
Severus Snape had to admit that the heights of Dumbledore's office did provide a useful stance to keep a watch for troublemakers. He did enjoy catching students doing something they should not. At that moment, he was watching a student walk out of the castle and head towards the far side of the lake. That was not exactly against the rules as it was not curfew yet, but a student alone was unusual. It was not long before whoever it was stopped and fell to the ground, hunched over.  
  
As he watched, the moonlight shifted and he could see more clearly. A small hand reached out of the robe, grasping and ungrasping empty air, pounding the ground in righteous fury.  
  
"Excuse me." Turning quickly on his heel, Snape walked briskly out of the room, to the envy of some of his fellow teachers and the silent smile from Dumbledore.  
  
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She was no longer silently railing about in pain when he found her. Breathing heavily, she was clutching the grass beneath her, as if holding on for dear life. Though there was no one near this part of the lake, he cast a small Concealment Charm around the two of them. He could not afford to let anybody notice him there with her. Walking as softly as he could, he came around her, and squatted down.  
  
Her eyes snapped at him, more in reproach and anger than anything, he noted. "If you wanted privacy you should not have come to the lake." His voice was low; his words carefully pronounced, devoid of inflections. He felt that there was something about this young woman-child that was dangerous. Something that he should avoid, but found he could not. Something about her that was vaguely familiar. "Get up, child. You'll catch a summer cold wallowing down there on the ground."  
  
He noticed the guard slip over her features. Standing up, he waited for her to rise off her knees, and was more than a little piqued when she did not. Her eyes, he saw in what little moonlight that still fell, were almost the same blue-grey as a storm cloud over the moors.  
  
"I will not tell you again."  
  
He crossed his arms and gaze at her. He had the distinct and uneasy impression she was searching his soul for answers to her questions. His mouth flattened into a hard line. His secrets were his alone; he was unaccustomed to this feeling of having that part of himself bared for just anyone to see.  
  
Though he did not allow himself to reveal it, he found that he was sardonically amused by her appraisal as well as her reluctance to do as he told her. He held her eyes with his and watched as she picked up a pebble, stood, and turned away from him.  
  
Damn her.  
  
"There are many kinds of pain, Miss Mason. I know them all well. There are, however, only two things you can do with any of them." The tone of his voice was conversational, as if he was talking to himself.  
  
The stone that she had picked up skipped three, four, five times before sliding down into the dark water.  
  
"You can either let it eat you inside out, or you can learn from it and eventually let it go."  
  
With that, he turned around, and left the girl. All the way back inside the castle, and down to the dungeons, he wondered what it was about her that robbed him of his very well guarded sensibilities.  
  
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It was late the same night when Siren entered the Ravenclaw portal. It amused her that she did not have to give the Nymph a password. The common room was nearly deserted and the few seventh years that were still up barely noticed that she was there. The hallway to the girls' dormitory was illuminated by small lightning jars, which automatically flickered a soft blue when someone came near. The seventh-year dormitory, where she slept, was the third on the left. She stopped at the sixth-year room. Silently pushing the heavy oaken door, she walked in. One bed was still unoccupied, but the others had sleeping occupants. Padding quietly over to Angela's four-poster, she parted the curtains and smiled down at her cousin. She was turned on her side, fist tangled in her hair, and pillow crushed to her chest. Siren had teased her about sleeping like this often when they had been children.  
  
Angela's family had meant well, but Uncle Gregory was still hurting too badly to have Siren constantly in the house. So when he had said that she might be able to go to Hogwarts for a second seventh-year, get some advanced education and finish the N.E.W.T.'s that she had missed, she had agreed. And Angela would be there. Circe and Cassandra had been so much younger than she and Angela that the two of them had always been like sisters, as inseparable as her father and Uncle, Gregory, had been when they were children.  
  
For the second time that night, the tears came. Not having the strength to resist, she sat down on the floor next to Angela's bed and let them fall.  
  
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"Why me, Headmaster?" Snape was desperately trying to keep his temper.  
  
"Because, Severus, everybody else has tried." He looked at Severus, wondering if he knew that his feelings were so bare. Dumbledore was often gratified and amused that Severus Snape would reveal some of his deeper emotions when it was just the two of them. He did not even think Severus realized.  
  
Dumbledore had thought long about asking Severus to intervene. This assignment would not be easy, but, as he had told his Potions Master, no one else could get her to respond. The night that the professors had talked in the tower, though, had been different. After Severus stormed out of his office, Dumbledore had watched at the window and saw through Severus' charm. Siren had, in some small way, interacted with Snape.  
  
"Maybe she just - doesn't - want - to talk - about it! Perhaps you should all stop nagging her to relive what she is trying to escape." Snape flicked his head back in an unconscious gesture. When he was irritated, which was quite often, his hair had an unfortunate tendency to fall in his eyes.  
  
"I happen to think you might well be correct, Severus. I also do not believe anyone else in this castle knows the kind of pain she has been through. However, escape isn't always healthy." Dumbledore's answer was quiet and hit Severus between the eyes. Indeed. He did know pain. His days as a Death Eater were clear enough in his mind that he still had nightmares.  
  
Snape nodded. He knew that he did not have a chance at winning this argument. Whatever Dumbledore asked of him, he would do, even if it meant walking into the lair of a demon, which was fairly accurate, in this case.  
  
"Gregory asked that she be given access to a small, soundproofed room. To dance in." Dumbledore looked down at a paper on his desk. "I do believe that if you will find its door down the hall and to the right from your office."  
  
Groaning at the inevitable, Snape held his head in his hands. "Must I, Headmaster?"  
  
"Yes, Severus. Please at least try."  
  
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As the song ended, she fell to her knees, her back to him.  
  
In a voice raw from disuse, she said quietly, "Please leave, while I have the strength to let you." With that small sentence, she looked over her shoulder, and caught her Potions Master staring at her.  
  
He looked shocked and unsteady, but his voice emerged calm. "No."  
  
Groaning again, she heard her music charm flow into the next song, felt her body start to move. With the energy that she put into her dancing, he knew it would not be much longer until she collapsed in fatigue. Her dance was wilder now. Her movements more pronounced, more sensuous.  
  
Damn her.  
  
With one quick spin, she lifted her arms like a wood-sprite imploring the moon, twirled again on raised toes, and fell flat as the song ended. Her music charm was silent. She was still, but he could see she was breathing.  
  
Silently he walked over to her. For the second time, he knelt before her. This time, she did not glare at him. She did not do anything. Taking hold of her shoulder, he turned her over.  
  
As quick as she had been in switching music and dances, she had fallen into an exhausted sleep.  
  
The incongruity of the situation shook out a snort of condemnation. Picking her up in his arms, he carried her out of the room and towards the hospital wing, muttering about difficult young women, and the constant need of concealment charms. 


	3. Chapter 2

The Dancer - Chapter 2 Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Universe belongs to JK Rowling as well as half a dozen other entities that I cannot even remember, including, but not limited to Scholastic Books and Warner Bros. Anyone you recognize belongs to her and anyone you don't belongs to me. No copyright infringement is intended. 

Authors note: I have dispensed with trying to recreate Hagrid's accent. You'll just have to imagine.

October brought cooler mornings and glorious sunrises. The first rays of light touched the upper spires of Hogwarts castle with gold. El Dorado would have paled in comparison. Throughout the valley, humans and animals alike were awakening. Hagrid was one of the humans beginning the day rather early. That was not unusual, as he tended to the many animals that resided on the grounds of Hogwarts. Morning, according to Hagrid, was a fine time to be among the creatures.

There were few, though, that welcomed the new day as victoriously as the finely feathered golden eagle he saw, while on his way to the Owlery, circling around the castle spires. Stopping to admire the eagle for a few minutes, he idly wondered what she was doing here. He had never seen one before in this area, though they were in a book that Professor Dumbledore had given him. It soared around and around the Astronomy Tower, down the parapets, up the courtyard, down to the Quidditch pitch and back up to the towers. Graceful and beautiful, it danced on the wind and air currents that mere humans could never hope to ride.

He was surprised to find that he was not the only one who had thought to visit the owls early that morning. Angela Mason was there, talking to a beautiful barn owl named Flibitigibit. "Well hello, Angela."

Angela turned and smiled. "Hello, Hagrid." She patted the owl once more, carried her to the open courtyard, and released her with a missive tied to her leg. "

Letters home?"

"Yes."

"Did you see that large lady eagle flying over the castle?" Hagrid's voice was tinged in affection. It was a known fact that Hagrid had a fondness for beasts of all descriptions, though the more terrifying the better.

"Eagle?" She looked up at him questioningly. "No, I didn't. What did she look like?"

Hagrid cocked his head, "Well, she was all golden and red, ruddy long wings, and was circling the towers as if she were protecting a nest." He seemed to wonder at his own words. "Now that I think of it, I'm not sure what she was doing here. I don't know as anyone would use an eagle as a messenger."

Angela laughed. "No, I don't know either." She looked up in the sky for a sight of the bird. "I bet she was something to see."

"That she was."

Siren had hardly looked up from the text that she was studying since she had sat down at the Ravenclaw table. Other students had come, eaten, and left, without talking to her, but still she sat and read. Most of the time, the lack of recognition from the other students did not bother her, but recently, she had found herself watching the other girls and wondering if she would ever again want to join in such a group. She also wondered if they would ever let her join them.

Unfortunately for Siren, today was shaping up to be one of the days that she found herself questioning her exile.

Siren closed her eyes and listened to the girls leave the table talking about their Charms work. It wasn't until she opened her eyes again that she realized she didn't know what book she had been reading. Bracing her elbows on the edge of the table, she reached up and slowly started working her fingers through her braids, trying to ease the tension she already felt.

"If you don't quit playing with those, they're all going to come out." A half-smile formed itself on Siren's mouth before she could stop it. Raising her head, she saw her cousin standing over her.

Angela's smile grew a little larger when she saw Siren's attempt at sociability. "May I?" Angela pointed down to the empty bench.

Nodding, Siren closed the book in front of her and pushed it aside. Idly, she poked her forgotten plate of fruit with her fork.

"I got a letter from Mum and Dad last night. I tried to find you, but you hadn't returned yet." There was an odd catch in her voice. Siren sighed as she looked at Angela. Despite her smile, worry lines were becoming apparent. Before she quite knew what she was doing, Siren reached over and hugged Angela.

"I've missed you, Siri." Slowly she released Angela and smiled at her. It was just a tad more than a half-smile, but more of one than she had been able to produce since her family had been killed. Angela was just pulling out the letters from her parents when a low, silky voice came from above them.

"As touching as this is, too much more feminine slobbering will make one of you late for Potions." Both girls looked up at Snape. Angela's face was touched with barely controlled animosity. For some reason, his rudeness amused Siren. She choked back a laugh and shook her head at the Potions Master. Snape peered down at her for a moment. Siren wondered if he would snap at them again, but he merely turned back down the tables and strode away, his black robes fluttering behind him. Still slightly amused by him, Siren glanced once more at Angela, who was staring at her rather peculiarly.

"Unfortunately, he's right about us being late. I've got Arithmancy in a few minutes." Siren nodded her head, and began to gather her books, amusement still coloring her mind. Long days were not unusual for her here, but today was going to be especially long. But, having something to look forward to would make it worthwhile. She wondered if Angela had thought she had forgotten.

"Remember, as you attempt the exercise, that successful multi- transfigurations must take into consideration the original state of the object. Failure to do so can result in fracturing the original object beyond repair." Professor McGonagall stared at her seventh years over her spectacles. "Each of you will now perform a five step transfiguration on the two objects before you." The students in this class should, she thought, be able to perform the transfiguration that was required, but what their animate and inanimate objects would become should be interesting.

In short order, the classroom was filled with all manner of objects: boulders, toads, and hairbrushes, even a pig. Most of the students seemed to enjoy this sort of exercise.

"I did not think, Mr. Fields, that a model train was supposed to croak.

"The mass shift was very well done, Ms. Casey.

"Ms. Phania, you must concentrate harder. This type of transfiguration..." She peered down at the brown haired Hufflepuff girl that was having difficulties.

"I know Professor."

Minerva McGonagall raised her eyes to watch Siren Mason transfigure her spider. As she had told Dumbledore, the young woman knew her transfiguration theory. She was producing all manner of items. The spider had become a beetle, a quill, and a small monkey (much to the delight of another girl near her). Siren paused for a moment as she held the monkey.

McGonagall certainly was not expecting the young woman to throw the monkey into the air. Gasping from shock, Professor McGonagall raised her wand and watched, as the monkey became a small, brown bat. Activity stopped as everyone watched Siren's bat fly around the classroom. Several of the boys were softly hooting, while most of the girls were making mews of disgust or fear.

"I think that is enough, Miss Mason."

Without looking at her Professor, Siren quickly transfigured the small bat into a baseball and summoned it to rest on the workbench. Professor McGonagall wondered again as she watched Siren perform the transfiguration and Accio, that Siren's magic seemed to cooperate with her self-inflicted muteness. She did mouth the words it was just that no sound was produced.

"That will be all, class. Remember your essays on splinching are due Monday."

The class filed out, happy to get out of the day's last class. There was the usual grumbling about a long essay that most of them had yet to start as well as talk about the transfigurations they had done that day. McGonagall swept her gaze over the room as the last students were filing out and noticed that Siren was still sitting at her workbench. The bat was back, hanging from her finger, and she was petting its belly fur.

In that moment, McGonagall thought Siren Mason looked almost at ease with herself. Maybe I should let her be. Siren looked almost entranced by the little animal she had created, as though it was an old friend.

The reverie of both student and teacher was broken, however, when the door was opened rather forcefully. The man who entered was wearing all black and his robes swished along behind him as he strode into the room. McGonagall saw his eyes sweep the workbenches and corners for lingering students and pause briefly over Siren and her small bat. His features hardened slightly; Sirens softened into a small smile as she looked at him, her finger still petting the bat.

"Professor Dumbledore wishes a word with you before dinner, Professor."

McGonagall nodded her head. "Of course, Severus." Still watching her young colleague, she began to gather up some essays for grading. Having delivered his message, he turned to leave. She did notice, however, that his eyes strayed to the young woman also cleaning up her belongings. Later, as she thought about that look, she was convinced that it was only because she was watching him so carefully that she noticed the quick frown he threw at Miss Mason before he swooped out of he room.

Curious.

While the rest of her house was at dinner, Siren was busy in the Ravenclaw common room. She had received more than a letter from her Uncle and Aunt. Siren had a lot to arrange before dinner was over, and she did not plan to miss anything.

The house-elves had arranged the food, she was providing the decorations, and there were presents from Angela's parents, Siren, and her dorm mates. More Swinging Streamers over there, a Banishing Bullhorn in that corner. The decorations were going well - she was trying to remember what her dorm mates had concocted for her sixteenth birthday party. Ah, right on time! As she turned around, she saw one of the house-elves quietly place a beautiful, three tiered birthday cake on the table. The small elf turned away before Siren could smile at her, but Siren could not really expect it to accept her gratitude. Everything was ready. Everyone knew to play their part. Siren cast the final linked Incendio spell, and, by concentrating on her cloak, faded herself into nothingness.

"I know it's still early, but I want to get that essay started. You know what he can be like!" Angela stood up and started to leave the table. The other four girls near her sighed and grumbled that they might as well get started, too. After all, it was a Snape essay.

As they were all getting up from the table, the four girls shared a small smile before they hurried after their friend.

Despite the cavalier attitude she had put on in the Great Hall, Angela was not really in the mood for her dinner. She had really wanted to see Siren, but her cousin had disappeared again. Today was supposed to be about family, after all. She forced a smile as her friends ran up behind her. They were debating the wiles of a fifth year Huffelpuff and a seventh year Ravenclaw. Joining in the discussion in favor of the Ravenclaw, as much out of house loyalty as anything else, she climbed the final staircase leading to their portal.

"Falcon's wing."

As the five girls entered the portal, the first thing that any of them noticed was that the fire had been put out. Angela frowned and pulled out her wand. Before she could get Lumos out, however, something at the far end of the common room lit up.

Behind her, she heard "Happy Birthday!" from four happy voices. As if that phrase was a cue, the whole room lit up. Laughter bubbled inside Angela and burst out as her horde of friends descended on her with hugs. They ruffed her hair, gently slapped her arm, and generally teased her for thinking they did not know.

As they moved away, she felt another hand curve over her shoulder. Turning to look, she saw Siren standing there with laughter in her eyes. "Thanks, Siri!"

It was not long before the whole of Ravenclaw returned from dinner. Siren, when she had written Angela's dorm mates about the surprise, had asked them to spread the word not to be late. As all the other Ravenclaws started enjoying the party, Siren pointed to the small pile of presents near the back wall.

Angela's face lit up like a small girls. She loved presents! Almost running over to the pile, she nearly knocked over two first years. There were several there, and she looked at all the tags. Then she saw one, wrapped in a shimmering blue fabric, whose tag made her hands stop and a gasp come from her throat. "Aunt Candy."

There were tears in her eyes when she looked up at Siren, whose eyes were dripping, also. Slowly, Angela removed the ribbons and wrapping. The box had a nice heft to it, but was not very big. Her hands began to tremble, and she realized that she had forgotten to breathe. Taking a few deep breaths, she pulled the top off the white box. Inside lay a mass of deep, midnight fabric.

Her world seemed to twist. Of it's own volition, her hand lightly skimmed the material before lifting it out of the box. It was a long, hooded cloak with bronze buttons. Something in the fabric seemed warm as she held it in her arms, as if it recognized her.

She looked back up at her cousin and saw the very sad smile on her face. Siren's mother had been a weaver. Her mother had made the cloak that Siren always wore. It was a very difficult and time-consuming project because the cloaks were magical, enchanted to become whatever garment the wearer needed. They were also only meant for one person. Angela had fallen in love with her Aunt Candy's and then with Siren's when she had been given it at her sixteenth birthday. She had not thought to get her own, especially after Aunt Candy had been killed.

Here it was, though, beautiful and blue. Within the tiny world that encompassed her cloak, she saw a pair of hands try to remove it from her. Squeaking with indignation, she looked up with a hint of malice in her eyes. Siren paused and looked back at her. Angela quieted down. Siren smiled finally, her eyes still wet, and shook out the cloak. She looked at it for a second and then swung it around her cousin's shoulders. Siren watched as the cloak molded itself to Angela's shoulders.

"That's beautiful, Angela!" Andi walked over to the pair to admire the beautiful cloak her dorm mate was wearing. Her blonde roommate pulled Angela in for a small hug. "Happy Birthday."

"Thanks, Andi." Angela looked over Andi's shoulder and saw her cousin head towards the portal. Watching her intently, she could see the small sobs that had not quite escaped.3

Snape was deeply entrenched in a complicated potion when a soft rustling just caught the edges of his awareness. He looked up harshly, determined to banish the cause of his distraction. Her eyes were half lidded and rimmed in red. The redness and dark smudges under her eyes, the pallor of her skin that told him she had spent to many hours in her studio and not enough in the sun were deeply enhanced by the knighted colors she wore. He swept his eyes over her. He had thought so before then, but he noticed that she seemed to slowly be fading away. "I have no time for chit-chat Miss Mason."

She cringed a little, and sighed. He turned back to his potion, berating himself softly. His gift for the sarcastic had a way of making even the most innocuous comments seem cruel. His surprise at her reactions to him not withstanding, he could not imagine why she kept coming down to his dungeon.

Damn her.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her move from the doorway. She padded over to the bookshelves; moving silently in the boots she seemed to favor. Severus' breath caught in his throat and he just barely stopped himself from swearing at her aloud when he saw her caress the spines of his beloved potions texts.

She must have heard him, though. Her hand paused over the spine of Potions for the Un-whole and quickly she glanced over her shoulder with something akin to fear in her eyes.

She knows she is intruding, he thought. But she still came. He knew that to many, the dungeons were the most feared place at the school - some would say even more so than the Forbidden Forest. This slip of a girl, though, came seeking something she was afraid of losing.

Severus deliberately turned his head back to the bubbling, blue liquid in his cauldron, determined to ignore her. In short order, he was caught up once again in the changes his potion underwent as it brewed and he added ingredients.

It was several hours later when he again became aware of some outside disturbance. When he searched for the cause this time, he saw Minerva McGonagall standing in the doorway of his classroom; her hand paused in the act of knocking on the door. "What?" He did not bother to hide his irritation at her interruption.

"I was looking for Miss Mason." He saw her pursing her lips, as if she was trying to swallow an unpleasant potion.

"What does that have to do with me?" The blue bubbles in his cauldron turned red as he carefully added blood scarabs.

"When I find her asleep in your classroom, it has everything to do with you."

There had been very few times when Severus had heard McGonagall sound as censorious as she did at that moment. His eyes narrowed and his mouth hardened. In a silky, low, and dangerous voice he said, "Since she is asleep, you have no reason to be concerned." His hand pushed back a lock of hair that fell into his eyes; his black eyes flicked over to Siren, laying with her head in an old Potions text, her braids falling around her like tongues of fire before returning to his cauldron. "If you are so troubled, Professor, wake her and send her about your way. But realize, Minerva, that she is sleeping."

McGonagall was still peering at him with obvious disapproval in her face, but her voice was notably hushed. "What is she doing here, Severus?"

Stirring his potion, he did not look up. "I have no idea, Minerva. She has not seen fit to tell me."

He fully expected McGonagall to lecture him on propriety. He was therefore surprised when she muttered something under her breath and walked to the worktable where Siren was resting. She softly moved a few braids behind Siren's ear, looked down at her, and walked out of the dungeon. Snape shook his head and looked from the door to where Siren lay.

Her eyes were open.

"It would not do any good to order you to get out, would it?"

"No."


End file.
